


Sofas & Cupcakes

by Daphne_Dark



Series: Frenzy [4]
Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fellatio, Married Sex, Non-canonical elements, One Shot, destruction of furniture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 07:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21012086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daphne_Dark/pseuds/Daphne_Dark
Summary: Set in S4; quite frankly  going against what will probably happen.   One trailer, focused on Helen, shows Helen on the sofa reading a book. John comes up to her.  He kisses her; she seems uninterested.  Inexplicably, he has a cupcake.The trailer implies  a strained relationship w/John and she says something along the lines of being "honest with each other" i.e love problems or worse.But I'm a hopeless romantic about them, so I indulgently re-imagined this scene if she had desire for him, and let him seduce her.Also - cupcake!





	Sofas & Cupcakes

John snuck up behind Helen. She was into a book, but did that matter, when he wanted her so badly? It had been so long. So he came up behind her, stroking her arm and nuzzling her neck. The fact that he could look down her dress and see her magnificent breasts was exciting him unbearably.

Helen fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to return to her book. She tried to focus on how this man did not save their son, and almost lost their daughters. But that just reminded her that he had tried to save Thomas, and how much he loved their children and herself. Not to mention how much fun it had been when they made the kids! Oh, after all this time, she still loved him…

But she had to focus on the larger picture.

“John, please…”

“Please what? Kiss you some more?” He kissed her neck and started kissing her earlobe, whispering in her ear “You are sweeter than vanilla…” He kissed her lips. “…And your kisses spicier than cinnamon…”

“Dear, I really want to finish…”

He slid his hand off her arm, resting it at the meeting of her thighs “…and better than chocolate in that special place…”

“John!” she snapped. “We can’t go on pretending things are like they were…”

Now John’s nostrils were flaring, partly in anger; although, truth be told, also with lust.

“Things are always changing! But I’m your husband, you’re my wife; I love you, and nothing can change that!”

Helen tried to rally her thoughts to say something, but John suddenly leapt over the back of the Biedermeier sofa, leaning over her.

“Helen! Put the book down!” he commanded. A soft moan escaped her lips as she obeyed. Oh, this man, why did he do this to her? She was trembling. A tiny bit from fear… John was so big and strong, he could do anything to her. But mostly… she was trembling because she wanted him, and she didn’t want to want him so very badly!

John had set the cupcake on the table and was caressing her hard, kissing her hard. She wriggled and struggled, but this only excited her more as she felt herself straining against his muscular body. He was hitching up her skirt… her slip. Then he rubbed her silk-clad bottom and crotch… before deftly ripping her panties off, tossing them gosh-knows-where.

He started undoing his uniform, giving her a “help me with this” look. Well, she was not his plaything, after all the difficulties he put her through! Let him undo his own darn trousers, the big lug! Not to mention what fun it was to watch him slowly reveal those powerful thighs, that big cock…

To her annoyance (and, well, face it, her _excitement_) Helen found that she had “slipped down” - and put her cunt perfectly in line for him to penetrate her.

Oh, but he wasn’t moving that direction. Helen whimpered a bit (she couldn’t help it) and then, John picked up the cupcake.

He scooped all the frosting off with one hand, and took a bite of the chocolate sponge. He gently put it in front of Helen, and she took a small bite. “Mmmmm, you have the best cupcakes, Helen…” She nodded.

“Let’s see what else about you tastes good…” He tossed the cake onto the table, and with the other hand, started smearing frosting on her pussy…

Oh, stars above, just with the lightest touch of his fingertips she was getting moist. He worked the frosting all through her lips, and then shoved two fingers deep in her. No fair, she was gushing already, and still, he probed, his head moving down, lightly kissing her mons.

Suddenly, she jerked forward! They were doing it, right on the antique silk upholstery! Of the Biedermeier sofa!

But when she moved in that realization, she had put her clit right in John’s mouth. Much to his delight! He was licking, sucking: up, down, circles, zigzags, geometries beyond name. Pleasure tore through her… and as she rocked to the rhythm of his mouth, his fingers were there, too, plunging, keeping her just off-center…

Then finally he synchronized his hand-and-mouth co-ordination. He involved all of her now, labia, clit, everything. It was symphonic. Waves surged through her, she was gushing, swimming, drowning. She surrendered to joy…

It was over, and John was on top of her, kissing her. She tasted cum and sugar. His fingers were coated, so she delicately pulled his hand to her mouth. She licked and sucked, lingering, looking up at him coyly. She made gentle moaning noises, fluttering her eyelashes, holding his hand against her mouth.

John watched, fascinated, and a little confused. He was happy, more than happy that they were loving each other again, but wondered why she didn’t release his hand…

Then Helen moved her head down, his fingers in her mouth, and he felt and saw her swallow in a way that was almost over-the-top.

Then he understood. Almost stunned by the thought, he sat at the other side of the sofa (avoiding the wet spot), fascinated as Helen hunched over his member. Oh, she was teasing him, kissing, playing with his skin, stroking his veins. Her tongue traced intricate patterns. Already hot from licking her pussy, he fought coming too fast, but pre-come was leaking from him, squirting on the back of the sofa while Helen dandled his balls in her mouth…

“Oh, my poor sweetie, I need to attend to this…” she said, and suddenly her mouth was on his head, greedy….

Slowly, _slowly_, she inched down him. She varied her strokes, keeping him on the edge. Oh, inchworm that she was, she had him, was halfway down his shaft; her hands were as active as her mouth. There was no holding back now, but she was ready for him. John gave over, letting his cum spurt into her, lost to everything but feel of her, sucking and drinking his juice. Then with a shudder he was spent.

He gathered Helen into his arms. It was his turn to taste himself on her mouth; languidly he rested…

But she kissed him so well, and then there was feel of her. Her breasts, so soft and tickling. The warmth of her, embracing him. Then, too, his spent penis rested between her thighs and whether consciously or not, she was rubbing against him…

Soon they were both conscious of it. Ah, it had been so long, their hunger was immense.

“Don’t stop, darling,” he begged. “I’m not fragile… I need to be inside you.” She brought him to…

Gently, he moved her on her back. She was more than well-lubricated, just from their desire. And oh! Being in her, thrusting in her, while she looked up at him with love and trust in her eyes again! They were meant to be together…

And then her eyes widened, and he thrust harder, pulling in and out, wanting and not wanting to delay the moment. She was humping him, too… if they could have interpenetrated each other, it would have been bliss. But, they were mere mortals, they had the barrier and the pleasure of their separate bodies coming together as one. She melted into him, and he lurched deep into her, drawing cries from both of them. The earth moved, and thunder cracked, then all sank into a dizzy faint…

John opened his eyes… realizing vaguely that they had soiled the striped silk of the sofa. And that they were at a funny angle.

“I think…” said Helen “I think… something broke.”

John turned his head to the side. Sturdy as Biedermeier furniture was, the silly curved legs of the sofa was no match for the vigorous sexual exertions of a 6-ft. Reichsmarschall and his equally active wife!

“Well, I guess we’ll have to do a requisition for repair,” John said. This would be a fun one to explain. John hoped Metzger would be as resourceful in glossing over weird situations.

“Never mind, love. We should really go to bed, anyway,” said Helen, extracting them from the wreckage. “We’ve got lots more to do, and lots more to catch up on.”


End file.
